


Plus One

by valkyrish



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Awkward Cullen, Crushes, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Minor Josephine/Harding, Minor Sera/Dagna, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrish/pseuds/valkyrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A suspicious piece of mail turns out to be an invitation to Cassandra's wedding, and Cullen has turned down one too many invitations to get out of it. Going stag to a wedding can't be that bad, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karaoke Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchythief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchythief/gifts).



> A cute little piece of modern AU fluff featuring Cullen and [witchythief](http://archiveofourown.org/users/witchythief/pseuds/witchythief)'s Inquisitor Cat Trevelyan.

Never open suspicious mail.

It was the first rule of working for the Chantry, and even though Cullen was no longer a templar, the daily safety messages stuck with him.

This letter had all the signs: it was bulky, there was no return address, and the envelope was addressed in barely legible calligraphy. Was that a wax seal on the back? He had never seen one in person before, not even on official Chantry mail.

Against his better judgement, he slid a finger under the flap and broke the seal, pulling a second envelope out from inside the first.

 _Wasteful,_ he thought with a scoff. But the way the inner envelope was addressed was the most suspicious part of all.

_Mr. Cullen Rutherford and Guest_

_And guest_? How cryptic.

Frowning, he opened the second envelope, and found yet another, smaller envelope, along with a piece of thick card stock covered with tissue paper. Beneath the tissue—yet more waste—the card was embossed with a foiled gold border and elaborate black script.

DOCTOR AND MRS. VESTALUS PENTAGHAST

REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE

AT THE MARRIAGE OF THEIR NIECE

CASSANDRA ALLEGRA PORTIA CALOGERA FILOMENA

"Maker's breath," he muttered. "That is a mouthful."

TO

SER GABRIEL RHYS TREVELYAN

SATURDAY, THE NINETEENTH

 _Oh._ It was a wedding invitation. Cullen felt silly for being suspicious. The name _Trevelyan_ struck a chord in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t place it.

He had, of course, some dim awareness that Cassandra was getting married. Even though he tried not to eavesdrop when she talked with Leliana and Josephine in the vicinity of his desk, they did tend to get loud when they talked about the wedding. Cassandra had even mentioned it to him once or twice.

"I hope you won't mind following up on these reports while I'm on my honeymoon. It's still a long way off, but I wanted make sure I gave you enough notice."

"Of course," he had said. He was always happy to help Cassandra, especially after all she had done for him, but he never expected to be invited to the wedding. It was probably just a courtesy. If he was invited, then she must have invited everyone from work.

There was a reply card inside the smaller envelope, with a space for his name and, presumably, the name of his guest.

Well, if he went, he would just have to go by himself. Weddings were expensive, right? That would save Cassandra's family some money.

_I can save them even more money by staying home._

With a sigh, he straightened the mess of envelopes and set the pile on the corner of the kitchen counter. The card said he had over a month to reply, so he wasn't going to think about it now.

He microwaved some leftover takeout and sat down at his counter to eat, setting his phone down next to him to check his work email. His commute was only 30 minutes, but in that time, he had received 13 new emails.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left,” he said to himself. Along with the usual inane questions that anyone could answer with just a little web browsing, Orlais wanted a conference call at 6 AM, and the Ostwick office needed an updated presentation for a meeting the next morning. _I’ll be up anyway,_ he thought, accepting the conference invitation. Once all the questions were answered, he fetched his laptop to take care of the presentation.

By the time he finished, his food was cold. Work tended to drain his appetite anyhow, and he shoved the leftovers back in the fridge.

His phone chimed and he sighed, preparing himself for more questions, but it was a text, not an email alert.

_The work will still be there on Monday, Cullen!_

It was Leliana. He let out another sigh.

 _I could say the same to you,_ he replied.

_I’m not working—I’m telling you not to work. Why don’t you come meet us for karaoke?_

Leliana and Josephine took turns inviting him out for friendly drinks or dancing or karaoke about once a month, and each time, he politely declined. They were only inviting him out of obligation, and he wouldn’t be much fun anyway. It was one thing to chat and joke around at work, but outside of the office, he would never be able to keep up. Just thinking about it made him tired, and the fact that it was already 11:30 didn’t help.

 _I’m not much of a singer_ , he told her.

_Neither is Cassandra, but she doesn’t let that doesn’t stop her!_

Cullen laughed in spite of himself. He had caught Cassandra singing at her desk once or twice, and she definitely hadn’t missed her calling. Shaking his head, he sent his response. _Thank you, but I’m just too tired. Maybe next time._

_You always say that. Watch yourself. One of these days, we’re going to kidnap you and force you to have fun._

He gave an involuntary shudder; knowing Leliana, she might actually do it. At least Josephine wouldn’t let her use force. Probably.

He closed his laptop and headed to the bedroom to change for bed.

As he brushed his teeth, he tried to remember the last time he went out with a friend. It was chess with Dorian in the park. Outside. When it was still warm. Meaning it had been at least two months.

To be fair, Dorian was currently on vacation in Rivain with his boyfriend, so Cullen wasn’t ignoring him at the moment. Of course, he never did return Dorian’s call from a month ago.

With a grunt, he plugged in his phone and climbed into bed. He turned on one of the late night shows and tried to get into the monologue, but the next thing he knew, it was 2 o'clock in the morning. He must have fallen asleep. He clicked off the television and drifted off again, relieved that he had turned down Leliana’s offer. They were probably just now leaving the bar, and he didn’t have that kind of stamina.


	2. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen hasn't touched that RSVP card and Josephine knows it.

Cullen pounded a fist against his desk. No matter what he did, the graph would not cooperate. He glared at his monitor—maybe he could intimidate the data into submission.

A frilly sleeve in his peripheral vision broke his concentration. “So, did you plan on ignoring Cassandra’s wedding invitation until the last minute, or did it really slip your mind?” Josephine asked, leaning down next to him. As usual, she clutched her shiny gold tablet, and Cullen caught the words _Guest List_ at the top of the open document.

“Ah…” he stammered. “Yes, I keep meaning to reply, but then work always pulls me away.”

Josephine put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Although I suppose it is,” she glanced at her screen, “12:32 and here you are, working through your lunch break.”

“Well, if the bloody graph would do what I told it to, I’d have time to eat,” he grumbled. Josephine shook her head, set her tablet down on his desk, and leaned over him. He scooted back to get out of her way.

With a few clicks of the mouse and swift keystrokes, Josephine created the graph that had eluded him for the last half an hour. “I believe this is what you were going for?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. Perhaps his frustration had been working against him, but then again, Josephine made everything look simple. “Thank you.”

Josephine broke into a grin and picked up her tablet. “Wonderful! Now, about Cassandra’s wedding…”

His smile faded. There was no point in dodging the question; Josephine was too persistent. “I apologize for waiting so long. I just wasn’t sure if she really wanted me to attend.”

Josephine drew back, eyes going wide. “Of course she does!” She turned around and looked out at the cubicles through Cullen’s office window, then leaned down, speaking in a hushed tone. “Cassandra only invited _certain_ people from the office.”

“Really?” He didn’t know what to make of that.

Josephine nodded. “She was very much hoping to have some friendly faces in attendance to help make it a bit less of a,” she cleared her throat, “family affair.”

Cassandra rarely spoke of her family. Cullen only knew that they ran one of the oldest and wealthiest shipping houses in Nevarra, and that she had struck out on her own as soon as possible. Although he didn’t know all the circumstances, he could understand how it felt to have an overbearing family. “Well, I suppose if she really wants me to come…”

“Excellent!” Josephine said. With a bright smile, she tapped a box next to his name on her tablet. “Now, how about your plus one?”

He furrowed his brow. “My what?”

“Your date. Will you be bringing anyone?”

 _Mr. Cullen Rutherford and Guest_ came back to him then, and his stomach flipped. “Ah, can I get back to you on that?”

She frowned at him. “All right, but please let me know this week. The caterer needs the final estimate soon, and I’m still trying to chase down seven of Gabriel’s third cousins.”

 _Third_ cousins? Cullen could barely remember the names of his first cousins. Josephine finally left him alone when he promised to get back to her as soon as possible. He hurried to the vending machine to buy a snack, but the machine refused to take his bills. Remembering the spare change in his desk, he dashed back to his office only to find a turkey sandwich sitting atop his desk.

“Cole,” he mumbled. This was the second lunch that mysteriously appeared this week. No one ever saw much of that intern, but ever since he started, the printer never ran out of toner, there was always fresh coffee when meetings ran late, and not even one computer had crashed.

Cullen smiled, but even the sandwich didn’t ease his nerves. Steeling himself, he shut his door and pulled the blinds.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he scrolled through the contacts on his phone until he found Mia.

He started to unwrap the sandwich, but the phone only rang once.

“Cullen? You must be dying if you’re calling me. Do you need a blood transfusion? A kidney?” She sighed and her voice dropped. “Maker, please don’t actually be sick, I’ll feel like such a jerk.”

Cullen suppressed a groan. “I’m not sick, Mia.”

Mia huffed. “Well, then I stand by what I said. It’s been almost a year! I know you didn’t change your number, so you must have gotten my messages.”

He chewed his lip. “I’m sorry. Work has kept me busy.”

“Just like the templars kept you busy. I had to find out you’d left the Order from Delrin Barris at my class reunion. He asked me how you were but he knew more than I did. Can you imagine that?”

“I…” Cullen had no idea what to say. She had every right to be upset with him, and no excuse would suffice.

“Is everything all right? Ser Barris told me some of what happened, and the family’s been worried sick.”

He would have to remember to check his personal email. “I’m fine. I only have a few minutes left on my lunch, but I will tell you later.”

“Right. You must want something.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m trying very hard to be mad at you, but I’m honestly just happy to hear your voice. What is it?”

Cullen took a deep breath. “There’s a wedding,” he began.

“ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED? CULLEN, I SWEAR ON ANDRASTE’S ASHES—”

He pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince. “It is not my wedding! My cowork—my friend Cassandra is getting married,” he explained. This quieted Mia, and he went on. “I agreed to go, but…am I supposed to bring someone?”

The line stayed silent and Cullen began to worry that she had hung up on him. Right as he was about to check his phone, she spoke. “Well, that depends. Are you seeing someone?”

He frowned at her curious tone. He supposed he deserved this for avoiding her for so long. “No.“

"Well, when’s the last time you went on a date?”

He sighed. _Typical Mia_. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“You asked for my help. If you’ve been out with someone a few times, you could ask them.”

But Cullen hadn’t been on a date in over a year. He hadn’t even really cared for anyone since Gwyneth back at Kinloch Hold, and that was over before it started. “There…there isn’t anyone I could ask.”

“Maker’s breath, do you do anything other than work?”

“I do,” he insisted, face growing warm. “I have friends, and…I read.” Maybe it didn’t sound as pathetic to Mia as it did to him.

“Well, how about one of your friends?”

Cullen frowned. Cassandra was the bride, so she was obviously out of the question. Dorian would be there, but he would probably be taking Bull. Josephine was already taking Lace Harding from Recruiting, and Cullen couldn’t imagine going with Leliana. Perhaps she had a date, too.

“All of my friends are going with other people.”

Mia sighed. “All right, you twisted my arm. I’ll fly out and go with you. At least that way we’ll be able to catch up.”

Cullen nearly choked on a bite of turkey. “I can’t take my sister!”

“Well, then it sounds like you’re going alone. It’s no big deal. Maybe you’ll meet someone nice! Or at least someone cute. It sounds like you could use—”

He didn’t want to hear the rest of that. “I really should be getting back to work.”

“Fine,” she grunted. “But I will call you later tonight, and you _will_ answer. 8:30 your time.”

“All right.” Under his breath, he added, “That is, unless I’m lying in a ditch somewhere, in need of a kidney.”

“I forgot how funny you are.” But Mia wasn’t laughing. He bid his sister goodbye and headed out of his office to tell Josephine there would be no “plus one.”


	3. Suit & Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward affair begins.

Dorian was right—he really should have tried on his tuxedo before the day of the wedding.

Ceremonial templar robes had always been required for events in Kirkwall and at Kinloch Hold, and while he didn’t miss the heavy armor (or the skirts), he did miss the simplicity.

He couldn’t remember when or why he acquired the tuxedo (maybe some sort of college formal), only that his mother had purchased it for him.

Unfortunately, as Josephine had explained, _Black Tie_ meant he couldn’t just wear a work suit. But so long as he didn’t have to breathe deeply or run, it would be good enough.

At least his hair looked good today. He even indulged in a few of his more expensive products (which he usually rationed) to give it that special touch. _To show Cassandra I care about her big day_ , he told himself. It had nothing to do with what Mia said. And even if he were to meet someone nice, or cute, he’d have no idea what to say. Better to just—how did Leliana put it?—sit in the corner and “look pretty.”

He shook his head, and with one last glance in the mirror, he was ready enough. Right on cue, he got a text from Dorian, who was waiting outside the hotel with Bull.

He headed down to meet them, and Dorian greeted him from the passenger seat with a sly smile. “Well, someone’s going to break some hearts tonight.”

Cullen snorted. “Hardly.” He took a seat in the back and shifted his shoulders, as if it might help the jacket fit better.

“I beg your pardon, but I was talking about me," said Dorian with a smirk.

Cullen laughed, relieved that he was no longer the focus of the conversation. “I stand corrected.” He adjusted his coat tails so they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly and tried to put the seatbelt somewhere benign.

“So, does anyone know where this place is?” asked Bull.

“Don’t look at me, I’ve never been in an Andrastian Chantry before,” Dorian replied. “I’m still not convinced I won’t burst into flames the moment I set foot inside.”

Bull sighed. “Tell me you’re not going to start a fire just to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Please,” Dorian chided. “Knowing Cassandra, this wedding will have so much spectacle, no one would even notice.” Cullen chuckled. Cassandra was no nonsense at work, but Josephine and Leliana had insisted on showing him a picture of her wedding dress and it was so sparkly, he was inclined to agree with Dorian.

Bull tilted Dorian’s chin up with a gentle hand, challenging his mock pout with a smile. “What if I made you a sign? It could say, _Watch out for the Magister_. I can carry it over your head. Would that make you feel better?”

The beginnings of a smile played on his lips as they drove off. “A kind offer, but no, thank you.”

Bull chuckled and shook his head. “Pass me that invitation, Cullen.”

Cullen picked up the envelope from the seat next to him. _Mr. Dorian Pavus and_...he couldn’t begin make sense of the ornate script that came after.“Is that your name?”

Bull laughed, taking the envelope from him. “What, did you think she’d address a fancy invite like that to _Mr. Iron Bull?”_

That would look rather silly. “Well, how do you pronounce it?”

“Unless you were born and raised on Par Vollen, I wouldn’t even try,” said Bull. Cullen looked to Dorian, who shook his head.

“Oh no.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I studied Qunlat for 7 years, and last time I said his name, I got teased mercilessly for my _terrible inflexion._ ”

Bull elbowed his shoulder. “Keep trying. You’ll get it.” Dorian flushed, but he couldn’t force his lips to turn down.

The chantry in Val Royeaux was bigger than the one in Kirkwall and much bigger than any that Cullen had seen in Ferelden. The tall towers and intricate stained-glass windows were the stuff of fairy tales, and Cullen could imagine Cassandra grudgingly agreeing to hold the wedding there while trying her hardest not to grin.

It only got more elaborate on the inside. Floral arrangements in stark white and deep red adorned the chantry, and someone at the door presented him with a program done in the same gold and black embossing as the invitations. Cullen’s shirt felt much tighter around his neck as he looked around the chapel. There must have been 500 people in there, with 20 minutes until the ceremony. The lights were so bright—and why was it so hot?

Bull’s voice pulled him out of his panic. “We want the side with the strong cheekbones.”

 _Just in time, too._ _The last thing I need today is a headache...or worse,_ he thought.

“I’m not sure which side to sit on,” said Dorian. “I’m related to both the Pentaghasts and the Trevelyans, you know.”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “You’re related to the Trevelyans? Is that how I know the name?” He was mostly thinking aloud, but Dorian shook his head.

“I doubt it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a very distant relation—I won’t bore you with the specifics.”

Cullen almost did a double take when Lace Harding waved them over to a row near the middle. Her deep blue evening gown suited her, but she looked like a different person outside of her normal business casual.

“Familiar faces! Thank goodness.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and laughed. “Josie pointed me over here, so I’m sure this is the right place.”

Dorian took her gloved hand as he and Bull showered her with compliments. Harding grinned and did a little spin while Cullen marveled at them. He didn’t realize that Bull and Harding knew each other.

_Must be from karaoke night._

“You clean up nice!” Harding said, and it took Cullen a moment to realize she was addressing him.

“I, um, thank you.” He sat down between her and Dorian, adding, “You look very nice, too.”

“It’s fun to get all dolled up every now and then. Wait until you see Cassandra—she looks incredible.”

He nodded, trying to listen as she and Dorian chatted, but he had nothing to add. None of the names on the program looked familiar, aside from Cassandra’s.    

 _Has there been music playing this whole time_?

As if there weren’t enough people in the room, a small orchestra was stationed off to one side. Strangers continued to file in until it was standing room only and he could barely hear the music.

 _If I ever get married, I’m not inviting anyone,_ he thought.

A change in the music hushed the audience, and then a beaming young man dressed all in white, and a woman, at least 25 years his senior, in blue, started up the aisle. A greying man at least 10 years older followed behind.

“That’s Gabriel,” whispered Dorian. “And his parents, I’m assuming.”

At least Dorian didn’t know everyone. Once the groom reached the front of the chantry (there would be no walking at hypothetical Cullen’s wedding, either, he decided), the orchestra started up a traditional Orlesian fanfare.

Leliana walked out first, with that _I know something you don’t_ smile on her face, followed by a dark-haired man—”Nicholas,” hissed Dorian. Then came Josephine, in the same maroon dress as Leliana, with a bright smile and a twinkle in her eye. That was the end of people Cullen recognized, and he glanced at the unfamiliar names on the program once more. Perhaps there was a line he hadn’t read, or something he had misread, but he turned the card stock over again with no such luck.

Dorian muttered names as people walked by, but by the fifth bridesmaid, even he had no clue. “The pale ones are Trevelyans,” he said. Cullen nodded absently, wondering if he had remembered to put his blow dryer away.

 _Maker’s breath,_ he thought, _does it take this many people to start a marriage?_ By the ninth bridesmaid he was considering counting light fixtures, until Dorian chuckled.

“And there’s our Cat,” he whispered, nudging Bull. “Doesn’t she look _thrilled_?”

He followed Dorian’s eyes to the back of bridesmaid number ten’s head—no, the Maid of Honor’s head. He glanced at the program (even though he had it memorized) to confirm. _Catherine Morwenna Trevelyan, Maid of Honor. Sister of the Groom, Friend of the Bride_. So Dorian and Bull knew her, too.

She drew out her steps, taking almost twice as long to reach the front as anyone else, and when she turned to face the crowd, Cullen understood Dorian’s comment.

“Why is she scowling?” he asked, leaning over to Dorian.

Dorian smirked. “That’s just how her face is. Charming, isn’t she?”

A laugh slipped out before Cullen could stifle it. She looked like he felt. The dress suited her, even as she transferred her bouquet of roses to one hand to pull up the top of the gown. Cullen never understood how women kept strapless dresses up. He once thought magic, but her struggle said it was more complicated than that. She glanced up at the ceiling and blew a stray piece of black hair out of her eyes, and Cullen snickered to himself.

Another shift in the music had the crowd on its feet, and Cullen followed suit. He watched Catherine’s face brighten as everyone else turned to look at the back of the chapel.

“Oh,” breathed Dorian from somewhere beside him. Iron Bull sniffled.

 _Cassandra must be walking in. I should look at her._ But Catherine was _smiling_ , and Cullen just couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 


	4. Petal Pelting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat hands out flower petals and Cullen gets the stink eye.

Cullen probably should have felt guilty for watching Catherine through the entire wedding. When the Revered Mother mentioned Gabriel's loving parents, Catherine rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. At one point, one of the other bridesmaids nudged her, smiling pointedly. Catherine answered by baring her teeth in a forced, malicious smile that almost made Cullen laugh out loud.

He wasn’t sure if she resented all the fanfare or if she was upset about the wedding itself. Maybe something else entirely. It certainly wasn’t the bride and groom, for she reserved her soft, beautiful smile for them. When they exchanged their vows, Catherine’s face was almost dreamy, exuding happiness and stirring Cullen’s chest in long forgotten ways. And when the couple kissed, she looked a little choked up, though she quickly covered it with a genuine grin.

With that, the ceremony was over, and Cassandra and Gabriel made their way back up the aisle. Cassandra was radiant—he really should have looked sooner—as she clutched her new husband’s hand, and Cullen hoped it was the storybook wedding of her dreams.

Cat looked dejected to link arms with the Best Man (Edmund—her brother, he realized). Unlike her solo entrance, she left the chantry at double speed, practically dragging him behind her as if she had somewhere important to be.

Relief and disappointment hit him when she didn’t glance his way as she passed their row.

 _Why should she?_ If she had seen him watching her, she would have found it creepy. _Is that why she hurried by?_ Cullen huffed and adjusted his collar. Now he was just being ridiculous.

Dorian sent him a knowing smirk. “Enjoyed the show?”

“Of course,” said Cullen, looking away. Surely he was talking about the wedding. Catherine was standing close to Cassandra the whole time; there was no way anyone could have known.

He started to get up, but Bull shook his head. Just when Cullen thought he was free, the chantry was dismissed by rows into an agonizingly slow receiving line, with no Catherine for him to watch.

Harding gushed about the ceremony to Bull and Dorian (but mostly Bull), and Cullen tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The crisp outside air was like the kiss of life, and when he finally reached the bride and groom, he found himself trapped in an unexpected hug.

“Cullen!” Cassandra exclaimed, squeezing his shoulders much harder than he expected. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Congratulations Cassandra, Gabriel,” he said, returning the hug, then shaking hands with Gabriel. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Great to see you again!” said Gabriel.

 _Again?_ The word sent him into a small panic. Cassandra must have brought him by the office at one point, and Cullen must have forgotten. He nodded to be polite.

“You are coming to the reception, aren’t you?” Cassandra asked.

 _I wasn’t aware I had the option_ , he thought. “Of course.”

She beamed at him, then at Gabriel; he had never seen her so excited, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “We must take a picture with Leliana and Josephine.”

He assured her that they would, then added, “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Dorian caught up with him as he walked away. “Liar, liar pants on fire. I saw you watching Cat. I bet you can’t remember one thing from the ceremony.”

“Cassandra got married,” said Cullen. Dorian laughed.

“Cheater. She’s right over there, if you’d like an introduction.” He pointed to Catherine, who was  standing apart from the bridesmaids, a basket of flower petals in her hands. Cullen stole a quick glance, trying to make it look like he was just scratching the back of his neck.

“That’s quite all right. I’m sure she has more important things to do.”

“Apparently not,” said Dorian. “Because here she comes.”

He tried not to look as Catherine approached, steeling himself instead. He wasn’t that rookie templar anymore; there was no need to run from a pretty girl.

Catherine flashed a trace of that smile at Dorian, but there was panic in her eyes. “Hide me from my mother, please,” she said. “I don’t want to hear her lecture. It isn’t my fault this dress doesn’t fit.”

“Don’t worry. _Most_ people were too focused on the wedding to notice you pulling up your dress.” Dorian sent Cullen a meaningful look, which he ignored. Bull and Harding approached at the perfect time, and Catherine greeted them with about as much ceremony as she used for Dorian.

“Oh,” she pulled a paper cone from a stack in the basket and scooped up some petals, “you’re supposed to throw these at Cassandra or something.” She handed the cone to Bull, who sniffed it and smiled.

“These lotus petals, Boss?” he asked. Catherine looked at him like he was speaking Qunlat.

“How should I know?” She scooped out petals for Dorian and Harding, then presented Cullen with a cup. He tried very hard not to touch her fingers as he took it.

Catherine looked at him expectantly, her lips set in that frown that had first drawn his attention.

“Thanks?” he offered. Her brow dropped in confusion and Dorian laughed.

“Cat, this is Cullen.”

Apparently, that required no further explanation. She looked Cullen up and down and nodded as if she suddenly got some obscure joke. “Ah yes, _the old stick in the mud._ ” Squinting, she peered up at him and leaned in close. “You had better watch out. You’re very handsome, and all my cousins are very single.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’ll...take that under advisement,” he said, taking a step back. Despite the cool weather, his neck was getting hot.

“See that you do,” Catherine said, her voice grave. Was she _imitating_ him? And did he really sound like that? None of his friends seemed to want to rescue him, but some blessed person called her name and she broke her stare. “Duty calls,” she groaned, trudging off.

Cullen exhaled, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the group. "I wasn't aware you talked about me when you all went out."

"Don't feel bad. We'd call you a stick in the mud to your face if you came out with us, too," said Bull.

"It's much nicer than what Dagna's girlfriend calls you," Dorian added. Cullen groaned; he didn't even want to know.

"Should we go throw these at Cassandra?" asked Harding. With a giggle, she added, "Not actually at her. She might fire us. Or me, at least."

"I suppose," said Dorian. "Rather messy tradition if you ask me."

Bull shrugged. "Cleaner than exploded birds. Not as fun, though."

Dorian let out a groan. "That's a myth. Uncooked rice doesn't make birds explode."

"Really? That's disappointing."

"I can light a bird on fire if it would cheer you up." Bull's eye widened at Dorian's offer and he nodded.

"No," said Cullen.

Harding laughed. "You sound just like Cassandra."

"Someone has to be sensible. Let's just throw these petals and get to the reception." Mentally, he added, _I could use a drink_.

 


	5. Ol' Sourpuss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds himself knee-deep in unwanted attention at the reception.

The receiving line turned into a ferry line as guests were sailed over the Waking Lake to the old Winter Palace. It hadn’t been used a palace for almost a century, but it was restored and kept in its former condition, which might have been interesting were it not for the reception.

After half an hour, there were seven untouched drinks sitting in front of Cullen, only one of which he had ordered himself.

“From the young man at Table 33,” said a waiter, placing a martini glass in front of Cullen.

Eight drinks.

“At this rate, we may as well open up a bar,” he muttered. “Does anyone want any of these?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind him. An elf with an uneven haircut snatched up what looked like a glass of mead and took a long drink. Next to her, Dagna from the lab grinned at him.

“Hey, everyone! Wasn’t sure anyone else made it. We were late to the wedding, so we had to sneak in the back.” She took a seat next to Iron Bull. The elf sat next to her, and Dagna put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh! Cullen, this is my girlfriend Sera. I don’t think you’ve met.”

“You’re Cullen then?” Sera snorted a laugh. “You’re everything they said you’d be, aren’t you? Right down to the hair.” He couldn’t tell from her tone if it was a compliment or not.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, fighting the temptation to ask what she called him at karaoke night. He looked down at the collection of drinks and sighed, selecting the whiskey on ice that he had ordered.

“So, are you just Mr. Charity? Ordering drinks for the table?” Sera asked.

Cullen rubbed his temples. “I ordered one drink. The rest just showed up. Take them, please.”

“Cullen here has many admirers,” said Dorian. He claimed the martini and passed something that was giving off fumes to Iron Bull. Dagna and Lace both helped themselves, and Cullen rubbed his temples, praying that would be the end.

“Anyone else here from work, or is this all of us?” asked Dagna, looking to the two empty seats at their table.

“Vivienne de Fer is here. Director of Staffing?” said Harding. “But she’s been off mingling since she got here.” There was a hint of relief in her voice. Cullen liked Vivienne, but he could understand why Harding was apprehensive. Vivienne was in her element here, and that alone was intimidating.

Someone brushed against Cullen’s back, and when he turned to apologize, he was greeted with a face full of silky scarves.

“Oh, excuse me,” said the woman wearing the scarves. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “How clumsy of me.”

“It’s quite all right,” he coughed out, plucking the material from his face and shifting out of her grip.

“I’m Evelyn, by the way.” She draped her hand in front of him, as if waiting for Cullen to kiss it. “Let me make it up to you with a dance later.”

“No, thank you,” he said, keeping his hands and lips where they were.

The woman pouted. “I’ll be at Table 15 if you change your mind.”

Cullen sighed as she walked off, then took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t have to turn his head to know Bull and Dorian were smirking at him.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you never come out with us,” said Bull. “There’d be mobs.”

“I doubt that very much.” But Cullen was relieved that the next person to approach the table had a plate of appetizers.

He downed an oyster, more to distract himself than anything, and when he set down the shell, Varric Tethras had appeared two seats over.

“Varric! You, ah,” Cullen cleared his throat, “I didn’t know Cassandra invited you.”

“That’s because she didn’t.” Varric held up his hands when he was met with shocked expressions. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I’m here with Leliana, and she swore Cassandra was okay with it. Especially considering the wedding present we got her."

"You're up to something," said Sera, wrinkling her nose. "You're always up to something."

Varric smiled. "You give me way too much credit, Buttercup."

 _Buttercup_? _Does everyone here hang out except for me?_

Vivienne returned to their table moments before the bridal party arrived. “Isn’t she lovely?" she said, looking through the doors at Cassandra. "I suppose if we must sit in the back, we may as well enjoy the view while we can."

Cassandra looked just as beautiful as she had at the wedding, but there were traces of weariness in that smile. It wasn’t surprising; now that the nerves had faded (and, as Bull explained, she had sat through thousands of photographs) she was probably ready to retire for the evening.

 _Stop feeling sorry for yourself_ , he told himself, sitting up straighter. _Think of what poor Cassandra has to go through._

Gabriel wrapped an arm around Cassandra and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was, the tender way she smiled up at him warmed Cullen’s heart. He looked away as she kissed Gabriel’s cheek, not wanting to intrude on the private moment.

_I’m glad she found someone who makes her so happy...even if I can’t place him for the life of me._

There was yet another processional as the guests of honor entered the hall, complete with announcements. Cullen cringed at Sera’s loud whistle for Leliana and Josephine, though he allowed himself to clap a bit louder.

“These stuffy types get off on the sound of their own names,” Sera grunted as the others marched in. Cullen was inclined to agree. “Surprised Cassandra came out as not awful as she did.”

Finally (not that he was waiting for it) came, “The Maid of Honor, Ms. Catherine Morwenna Trevelyan, and the Best Man, Mr. Edmund Ioan Trevelyan.”

Sera let out a whoop and Catherine looked right at their table, but it was Cullen her glare landed on. He swallowed. Was that look because of their terrible introduction, or was Dorian telling the truth?

She looked ahead as she passed, but about halfway to the front of the hall, she turned around and— _was that a wink_? Cullen blinked a few times. _No. I’m seeing things. It’s dim in here, and I’ve had a drink._ He glanced around the table, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

Waiters had filled champagne glasses while the guests were distracted.

"Wonder how many toasts there'll be?" said Dagna. “I’ve never been to a wedding this fancy before.”

"Buncha nobs stroking each other’s bits?" Sera stuck out her tongue and made a rude noise. "Wake me up when they bring the food ‘round.”

"You sure about that? Ol’ Sourpuss is probably going to make a toast at some point," said Varric.

A grin spread across Sera's face. "Oh, right! That oughta be good."

Cullen frowned; he couldn’t keep up with Varric’s nicknames, but everyone else seemed to know who “Sourpuss” was, so he didn’t ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geography what now? Just go with it. By the way, witchythief suggested that the Inquisition is a Red Cross-type organization in this universe, and I really like that. I can't thank her enough for letting me borrow her Trevelyans.


	6. Heartfelt Tribute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat makes a toast to Gabriel and Cassandra, and Cullen finally catches a break.

As it happened, "Sourpuss" was Catherine.

_Fitting_.

A droning toast from Edmund left Harding's eyes drooping. The occasional rude noise from Sera couldn't make the speech interesting, and even Vivienne's eyes had glazed over by the end. Polite applause started Varric awake, and Cullen stifled a yawn.

But when Catherine stood, Cullen straightened his spine and gave her his full attention. She could barely keep it together during the ceremony. How would she handle a room full of people? Her face gave nothing away, but Cullen's heart pounded a bit faster—sympathy nerves. He could give a presentation on disaster response efforts in his sleep, but standing in front of friends and family for a toast? Just thinking about it made his stomach turn.

As soon as Catherine had the microphone, her grimace eased into a regal smile. Cullen's breath caught in his throat.

"Thank you, Edmund, for that heartfelt tribute." Even from a distance, a twitch of her mouth betrayed her gracious tone, but the smirk was gone before it arrived. "And thank you to all the friends and family who came from all over Thedas to celebrate with us today." She stepped out from behind the long table and positioned herself next to the couple (in front of Edmund).

"I've been lucky enough to get to know Cassandra over the past 2 years," Cullen's eyebrows shot up— _had it been that long?—_ as Catherine went on, "and I've never met a more passionate, selfless person. Without a doubt, there is no one in the world who loves Gabriel more than she does. I could tell you all kinds of interesting stories about Cassandra," now Cassandra's eyes went wide, "but I won't do that to her. My brother, on the other hand..." She grinned wickedly and Cullen felt it in his gut. Gabriel just laughed.

"I've known Gabriel for, oh, about 22 years now, if our parents are to be believed." Cullen chuckled, but he was the only one, and he cleared his throat. "But for those of you who haven't been so lucky, here's a crash course in Gabriel." She sent Gabriel a look of true fondness and Cullen smiled.

"When we were growing up, our lovely parents got rid of us every summer by sending us to camp in the Hinterlands. It was the best part of the year, despite the ridiculous songs they tried to make us sing. We used to make up our own words, but don't worry, Mother, I won't repeat them here." Cullen found himself mirroring her satisfied smirk as the guests laughed.

"Every year, they had a talent show to close out the summer, and every year, I had to top the last year." Catherine's face lit up and Cullen shifted in his seat. "The best one was our reenactment of the end of the First Blight. I got the brilliant idea to unleash a volley of arrows at Gabriel, and his response was, 'I love it! But what if you lit them on fire?'"

There were several gasps, and the Trevelyans were shaking their heads. "Unfortunately, the camp wasn't ready for that much excitement. But Gabriel told the counselors that it was all his idea, and I said the same thing. You can imagine how thrilled our parents were to get that call." She puckered her lips and the crowd chuckled. "To this day, no one has ever topped that performance. But in the end, it was the both of us in the Disciplinary Cabin, waiting to be picked up. That's my brother—he's always there for the people he loves, for better or worse."

The crowd applauded as Catherine smiled warmly at the couple. Once it was quiet, she reached behind her back and raised her voice. "And now, we will reenact the Volley of Fire—"

Cullen nearly choked as Mrs. Trevelyan shot up, but Gabriel just laughed. Cassandra, whose eyes had shot open, relaxed and Cat smirked.

She raised her glass and Cullen did the same. "To Cassandra and Gabriel! May your life together be a storybook romance."

She toasted Gabriel and Cassandra and then took a drink, ignoring the rest of the head table.

"Hear, hear," said Varric. Cullen turned to the sound, finding Varric's glass waiting.

"Right," said Cullen, clinking glasses with the rest of the table. When he snuck a glance back at Catherine, he could have sworn she tipped her glass in his direction, but he had to be mistaken.

"Riveted, I see," said Dorian. "I'd tell you to dance with her, but I'm sure you won't."

Cullen was saved from responding by a prayer from the Revered Mother, and he gave extra thanks to the Maker for that.

As soon as the salads were served, Cullen found himself with three more glasses of whiskey. "Wonderful," he muttered. "They were paying attention." But he took one and passed the others around.

Catherine's toast replayed in his head. If she was nervous or uncomfortable, she hid it well, striding around the table and making daring jokes at her parents' expense. This wasn't her first speech, and she was only 22.

_Then again,_ he thought, glancing around the grand hall, _she was raised in this world._ He took a sip of his whiskey and his heart sank a little. _What could a society woman like that ever see in me?_ She may have had a mischievous streak, but it was just a game to her. The sooner he forgot about this little crush, the better.

For the first time in years, his social prospects were dim enough to get to him. He sighed and poked at his salad. Hurricane season was coming and there would be plenty to do at work.

_Maker's breath, am I really looking forward to natural disasters?_

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Dorian responded, _Your life is a natural disaster._

The food and conversation were welcome distractions, and Varric's stories were always good (though he didn’t give anything away about Cassandra's surprise).

Once dinner was finished, the guests began to mingle once more. The moment Cullen stood to find the restroom, he was swarmed.

"What's your name? How do you know the couple?" asked a blond.

Cullen sighed. "I work with Cassandra."

"Oh, you must be Cullen!" squealed another, this one with dark hair. "Gabriel said you used to be a templar."

"Yes." _But how did Gabriel know?_ Something clicked in his memory and he groaned. Gabriel joined the order just after Cullen started working in Kirkwall. Those weren’t his favorite memories to visit, but his stomach filled with guilt until he felt a hand on his... "Did you just grab my bottom?"

The admirers giggled.

"I hope you'll save me a dance, Ser Cullen!"

"Only after he dances with me!"

Cullen frowned. "No, thank you. Please excuse me." Tapping into his evasion skills, he ducked behind them and made for the restroom without looking back.

"So mysterious!" he heard someone call, to another round of giggles.

As he exited the bathroom, the crowd loomed in the ballroom, all excited conversations and tipsy shenanigans. Not eager to have any more hands on his rear, Cullen's eyes landed on the stairs to the left. They weren't roped off.

The palace normally functioned as a museum; surely no one would mind if he explored a little.

_Dorian will text me if I'm missing something important_.

And with that rationale, he headed up the stairs. As the roar of the crowd got softer, his tie felt looser. The palace really was quite impressive when no one was sending him drinks.


	7. The Light the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat finally gets Cullen all to herself, but it's all in good fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter.

It was much easier to deal with stately nobles when they were depicted on canvas. _I wonder how much the parties here have changed._ The only difference Cullen noticed as he strolled through the dark hallways was that the people in the paintings wore elaborate masks.

He wandered into what must have been the library; the shelves were stacked with ancient books, giving the room a distinct aroma. Unable to resist, he dragged a finger across one of the substantial wooden tables, surprised to find no dust when he examined his finger.

“Awfully clean for a place no one lives, huh?”

Cullen almost jumped at the sudden noise. He whirled around to find Catherine Trevelyan standing between two bookshelves with her arms folded across her chest. That smirk was even cuter up close, and he took a step back. “Forgive me, I _—_ ”

Catherine held up a hand in front of him. “There’s no need to explain. I knew you’d come for me.”

“You...what?” He frowned at her. She must have misread his intentions. He started to apologize when she broke into laughter.

“I’m only joking. I had to get out of there before my mother fried me with her evil eye. I thought my toast was pretty tame, but nothing’s ever good enough for her, is it?” She tossed her hands in the air. “Good thing I gave up a long time ago. So, which one of my cousins tried to feel you up?”

The topic change was so abrupt he almost choked. _How did she know about that?_ Catherine waited calmly for his answer, and he cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. Might have been a tall redhead.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait. Someone actually copped a feel?” She frowned, puckering her lips to one side like she had during her speech. “Was it Abigail? Long hair, lots of freckles?”

“Perhaps?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll kill her for you.” It was probably another joke, but Cullen remembered the flaming arrow story, and he swallowed. “But I did warn you, didn’t I? Trevelyan women mean business, and some of the guys, too. Of course, the guys don’t have expiration dates.”

“Expiration dates?”

Catherine nodded, expression solemn but eyes alight. “Oh yes. I’ve failed twice now to secure myself a husband, so I’m basically a spinster.”

“But you’re only 22!” he exclaimed. After it came out, he grimaced, hoping she wouldn’t find it creepy that he remembered her age.

Catherine laughed. “I was going to quiz you on my toast, but it sounds like you were paying attention.” The laugh faded and she crossed her arms again, studying him. “So, Cullen, how old are you?”

At least she didn’t let him wallow in embarrassment for too long. “I’m 30.”

“Gabe said you didn’t cross paths in the Order for long,” she said, nodding. “I bet you don’t even remember him, do you?”

“Not well,” Cullen admitted. “I only made the connection after dinner.”

“Wow, the memory really is the first thing to go when you get old, isn’t it?”

 _Another joke,_ Cullen realized with a smirk. She had no way of knowing how unpleasant those days were for him, and she meant no harm. “At least I haven’t found any grey hairs yet.”

Before he could back away, she was standing on her tiptoes at his side, close enough that he could smell her perfume (or maybe that was just how she smelled). He tried to breathe normally as she examined his hair.

“I think you’re good,” she said. When she stepped back, she left far less room between them than before. “Let me guess. Gabe greeted you by name and remembered your favorite color.”

Letting out his breath, Cullen nodded. “That’s essentially what happened.”

Catherine smiled in that way that tugged at his chest. “That’s Gabe. Well, I’m glad you met the best of the family. There’s really no one else worth knowing.”

“I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Catherine.” It must have been the whiskey, but he didn’t regret his words. Her eyebrows went up just a little before what he now recognized as her default glare was back.

“Most people call me Cat, you know. In fact, I believe I was introduced to you as Cat.”

She had him there; Dorian had called her Cat multiple times, but it seemed so forward. Then again, apparently everyone used nicknames in their little group. “Forgive me. I just figured, since you all knew each other...” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Everyone but you. So tell me, why _do_ you hate all your coworkers?” she asked, walking in a little circle around him.

“What? I don’t—”

She scratched her chin and pulled up her dress. “Oh, so you just hate fun, is that it?”

He started to protest before he caught the spark in her eye. She was egging him on again.

“Yes,” he said. “I abhor fun and avoid it at all costs.”

Cat grinned, and he knew he’d picked the right answer. “Good call coming to this wedding, then. Even Gabe and Cassandra couldn’t save it.” She wrinkled her nose, then reached into her hair and began pulling out pins. He couldn’t look away as shiny black curls fell to her shoulders one by one. “I thought Trevelyan weddings were bad, but Pentaghast weddings are a nightmare.”

By the time she was done, she must have stuffed 50 hairpins into her purse. She ran her fingers through the curls a few times before securing them in a ponytail. The tension in her shoulders eased, and he wondered if her hair was naturally curly like his.

Realizing he hadn’t spoken as he watched her, he cleared his throat. “I haven’t been to a wedding since I was a child, but weddings in my family were nothing like this.”

“Small chantry, few witnesses, most of them dogs?” asked Cat.

Cullen laughed. “Is my Fereldan showing?”

“A bit. But compared to this, I’d take the dogs.” She met his eyes, just a trace of a smile on her lips, and he held out his arm.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to continue exploring the palace, Cat?”

“I don’t suppose I’d mind,” she replied, taking his arm.

She steered him through the halls and rooms, speculating on what might have once transpired and how many blood stains had been scrubbed clean. When they reached a study, muted music rose from the ballroom beneath them.

“That must be Gabe and Cassandra’s first dance,” said Cat. Cullen frowned. How selfish of him to take all of her time.

“I apologize,” he said, taking a step toward the door. “If we hurry, we may still catch it.”

Cat waved her free hand. “Please. It’s hard enough for Cassandra as it is. The fewer people watching, the better. I’d just make faces at her, anyway.”

She did have a point; Cassandra was probably worried about getting the steps right, and an audience would only make it worse. “If you’re sure.”

“Don’t worry so much.” Cat gave his arm a squeeze. “Cassandra didn’t want to dance at all, but her family insisted. Proper decorum or something. Thank the Maker they didn’t make me dance with Edmund.” She made a gagging noise.

“I can see how that would be awkward.”

“Not that I have anything against dancing itself,” she said, her voice coy. “I’d dance with you, if only you liked having fun.”

Even if she was joking, dancing with Cat sounded much more enticing than any of his prospects downstairs. He turned to her and lowered his voice. “I might be persuaded to make an exception for you.”

The corners of her mouth crept up. “Why, Cullen, is that an—”

"Catherine? Are you up here?" The voice came from the hall. Cat’s eyes shot open and she swore. Her grimace said that it was a relative, and as her eyes darted around the room, he could almost see the gears turning in her mind.

In one swift motion, she grabbed Cullen’s shoulders and whipped him around so his back was to the door. Before he could catch a breath, her lips crashed into his.

The shock numbed his brain, but without those pesky higher functions, instinct took over. One hand found the small of her back while the other rose to the soft wisps of hair at her neck, and he drew back just a fraction to slow her frenzied pace.

She let out a little gasp against his mouth, her arms dropping to her sides. He stiffened with fear—was this not what she wanted? But as he tried pull away, she wrapped her arms around him and relaxed into the kiss, letting her body melt against his. _Maker_ , but the way she sighed made his knees go weak. _At least I'm good at_ _something_.

It didn’t last long, and he was still dizzy when they broke apart.

“I, ah, think she’s gone,” said Cat, her voice lacking its edge. Cullen could only nod as she gazed up at him, lips parted. “Cullen...”

“Yes?” he murmured. She blinked a few times, drawing his attention away from her mouth.

“You didn’t take the _full_ Chantry vows, did you?”

“Sorry?” He still had his arms around her. _Maybe I should move…_

“Well, I’m pretty sure they maintain the bedchambers,” she began with a wink, “if you want to take this upstairs.”

That snapped him out of his haze. “What?”

Cat laughed—played again—and Cullen joined her. In the distance, some jazz standard came to a crescendo, or maybe his mind was finally clear enough to hear the orchestra.

“Just a joke.” Her smirk softened but the twinkle stayed. “I would take that dance, though,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Smiling back at her, he took her waist and her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Your Eyes is so overdone but it totally gives me Inquisitor/Cullen feels.


	8. A Little Bit Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's surprise is revealed, Cassandra and Gabriel make their escape, but where does that leave Cullen and Cat?

At some point, dancing had turned back into walking, hand in hand now. Cullen barely paid any attention to where they went, lost in conversation with Cat.

“So when I came to pick Gabe up after the race, he and Cassandra were so deep in conversation that I left and got lunch. When I came back, they were _still_ talking in the middle of the park, so I took them to a coffee shop and made myself scarce.” Cat grinned at him. “They’ve been attached at the hip since then. Naturally, my parents think they orchestrated the whole relationship. Funny how they only jumped on board once they found out she was a Pentaghast.”

Her earlier comment about failing to secure a husband (twice) weighed on his mind, but he didn’t want to pry. “And how did you and Cassandra become friends?”

“She made a point of getting to know me,” Cat said, a little smile on her lips. “And she knows a thing or two about breaking free from family expectations, which is a topic near and dear to my heart.” She squeezed Cullen’s hand. “What about you? Did your parents always hope you’d be a templar-turned-charity-executive?”

Cullen thought back, but he couldn’t remember his parents being anything but supportive. “If they had other hopes for my career, they never mentioned them.”

Cat let out a dreamy sigh. “That sounds wonderful.”

Knowing that an understanding family was the stuff of dreams for her made his heart ache, and left him feeling more than a little guilty for losing touch with his siblings. She didn’t have anything to add, and he wasn’t ready to volunteer, so he returned to familiar territory.

“And how did you meet all of my coworkers?”

Her expression was flat, as if it were obvious. “Karaoke night.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle.

“I made friends with Dagna and Sera, Bull and Dorian,” she paused for a quick, humorless laugh, “boy, were my parents disappointed when they found out he was gay. Josephine, Leliana, Lace, Varric, before he moved back to Kirkwall… All of them, really, except for the elusive Cullen.”

Cullen arched an eyebrow. “Is that what they call me?” That wasn’t so bad.

Cat snorted. “Oh, you wish. There's Curly, Stick-in-the-Mud, Troglodyte, Jackboot—”

“I get the picture,” said Cullen, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I didn’t even get to Sera’s favorite yet!” Cat stuck out her lower lip to pout, and he was tempted to kiss her again, nicknames aside. But that wouldn’t be appropriate.

“You can tell me next time,” he said. Her eyebrows went up and one corner of her mouth twitched up.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I mean the next time someone in your family marries one of my friends.” Realizing he had just told her _no_ , he added, “Or over coffee. Or dinner. Or karaoke, since that seems to be what you—”

She stopped his babbling with a kiss on the cheek. “I get it. And coffee sounds lovely.” Her eyes filled with mock pity and she patted his head. “You're not ready for karaoke night.”

But nothing could wipe the smile from his face. They gazed at each other until he was dimly aware of the buzz of a mobile phone—not his. “Aren’t you going to check that?”

Cat shook her head. “I’m not missing anything.”

“Just the wedding of your favorite brother and best friend. Nothing important,” he said with a smirk. She bumped her shoulder against his and pulled out her phone with an exaggerated huff. A mischievous look crossed her face as she read.

“Oh, we don’t want to miss this,” she said. “Varric’s surprise is ready.”

“Oh?” As much as he wanted to keep talking with Cat, he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

“We’re to ‘make ourselves decent and meet in the trophy room,’” Cat read aloud. “Do you want me to mess up your hair and make it look convincing?”

The glint in her eye and the thought of her fingers in his hair made it a tempting offer, but he just shook his head. “Next time for sure.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know,” she said, pointing a finger at his nose. “Your hair is just _too_ perfect.”

Cullen squared his shoulders. _At least someone appreciates it._ And knowing she wanted to see him again warmed his stomach more than the whiskey had.

He followed her through a maze of halls and rooms, somehow avoiding the other guests, until they met Leliana.

“And where have you two been?” she asked, eyes twinkling. Cullen only smiled back at her, glad to have a mystery of his own for once.

_Albeit not a very tricky one._

“Hurry, Cassandra’s coming!” hissed Josephine, beckoning them inside. Now that there were other people around, he put some distance between himself and Cat and looked around for a clue as to Varric’s surprise.

No clues were necessary, because standing in the corner of the trophy room was none other than Amanda Hawke. Cullen blinked a few times. “The Champion of Kirkwall?”

Hawke smirked. “Long time no see.”

Echoes of Cassandra’s voice grew louder from the hall, and Leliana put a finger to her lips.

“What are you up to, Varric?” Cullen couldn’t tell whether the increase in volume was because she was getting closer, angrier, or both.

“Me? Up to something?” said Varric. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Tell her, Pep Squad.”

Gabriel’s voice was the epitome of calm. “I’m sure you’ll like it, my love. Whatever he has planned.”

Cat snickered and slapped her hand over her mouth before Leliana could admonish her.

Weary but still sparkling, Cassandra stepped in, flanked by Gabriel and Varric. Puzzled, she looked around the room.

“I suppose a break from the fest…” Her voice trailed off when her eyes landed on Hawke. Only squeak escaped her lips before she hid her face in her hands. “Varric, you DIDN’T.”

“He did,” said Hawke. “I hear you’re a fan?”

Cassandra turned to Varric, her face red. “You told her?!”

“Hey, don’t be mad at Varric! I’m flattered,” Hawke said. She shot Cullen a pointed look. “ _Most_ people don’t appreciate what I did in Kirkwall.”

Cat glanced at him, one eyebrow arched, and he vowed to tell her the whole story later. On their date. His heart leapt at the thought.

“Well, do you have any questions for her?” asked Varric, taking his place at Hawke’s side. Gabriel took Cassandra’s hand and squeezed.

“Do you sign books?” she blurted out. Cat and Hawke laughed, and Cullen could have sworn they were in stereo.

“Not usually, but seeing as it’s your wedding…”

Cassandra’s grin was radiant, but then her face fell. “Oh no, I don’t have my book,” she moaned.

Varric laughed. “We’ve got you covered.”

Josephine produced Cassandra’s stabbed copy of _Tale of the Champion_ from behind her back and Cassandra looked like she might cry. She took the book and passed it to Hawke, not meeting her eyes.

“To Cassandra,” said Hawke as she wrote. “No hard feelings. If you’re ever in Kirkwall, don’t be a stranger, but watch out for the Red Lyrium.” When she passed the book back, Cullen could make out _XOXO Amanda Hawke._ Cassandra clutched the book to her chest.

“Thank you, Hawke! You have no idea what this—” She stopped to look down at Varric. “Varric, how can I ever make this up to you?”

“Aw, don’t mention it,” he replied, his ears going a bit pink.

Cassandra looked from him to Hawke, a wide grin on her face. “Would you stay? We have plenty of cake.”

“Thanks, but we need to be getting back to Kirkwall,” said Hawke, sending Varric a warm smile that made Cullen wonder.

“Of course,” said Cassandra, nodding. “Thank you for coming. This gift—thank you.” Gabriel put an arm around Cassandra’s shoulders as they bid Hawke and Varric goodbye.

“See you next summer!” Cat called, waving. Varric saluted her and took his leave, with Josephine and Leliana standing watch.

Once Cassandra caught her breath, she faced Cullen and Cat, eyes narrowed. “Where have you been? You missed all the dancing.”

“Not _all_ of it,” said Cat with a smirk. Cullen coughed. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Gabriel grinned and turned to Cassandra. “I’m sure Kitty was just showing Cullen around the palace.”

Cassandra looked from Cat to Cullen suspiciously. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

Knowing Cassandra, it was probably a straight question, but Cat didn’t take it that way. “Nothing in the palace,” she said, throwing Cullen a wink.

Gabriel elbowed her and grinned. “And you didn’t think this would be any fun.”

He seemed unperturbed by the implication that his sister was off canoodling with an older man. Cullen could feel the panic setting in, but remembering that this was a man who trusted his sister to shoot flaming arrows at him brought him some comfort. Cat may not have had parents she could trust, but Cullen would never be that close with any of his siblings.

Maybe he’d never be that close with anyone. All the hand holding, dancing, and most of all, the kissing, seemed like a dream, and he couldn’t believe he’d gotten so carried away. The thought that she might be toying with him, that he was just the evening’s entertainment, invaded his mind.

 _That’s not very charitable_ , he thought, wrinkling his nose. He tried to ease his guilt with a deep breath, but all it did was remind him of how tight his collar was.

Cat’s voice shook him out of his head. “Don’t you crazy kids have a honeymoon to run off to?”

“Do you think we can slip out without anyone noticing? I think I’m done being paraded around,” said Gabriel. There was annoyance beneath his good-natured laugh.

Cassandra grunted in disgust. “We should have eloped. If I never see a camera again, I will die a happy woman.” She unpinned the braid that crowned her head and let it fall.  

Cat put her hands on Cassandra’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I will cover for you.” She kissed her cheek, then Gabriel’s, and then she was halfway toward the door. “If there’s one thing I can do, it’s make a scene. See you when you get back!”

Gabriel shook his head. “No way. You’re in enough hot water as it is. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I told Mother our flight is at 11 o’clock tonight, but it’s not actually until tomorrow morning. The limo should be here any minute.”

Cassandra let out a happy sigh, holding her book tighter. She kissed Gabriel’s cheek. “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve heard all night. Aside from your vows.”

“Brilliant!” Cat exclaimed. “Give me the details so I can corroborate.”

While they schemed, Cullen took the opportunity to approach Cassandra.

“I am so happy for you, Cassandra,” he said. She smiled back at him and he laughed. “It’s very kind of you to keep inviting me, even though I keep turning you down.”

“So you don’t like going out,” she said with a shrug. “Neither do I. But you’re always there when it counts.”

“I did have fun,” he admitted. “Perhaps I could join you for less...formal events in the future.”

“Do my ears deceive me?” said Leliana, stepping back into the room. “Or did Cullen just agree to come out with us?”

Josephine nodded. “I believe that constitutes a verbal contact. You can’t go back on it now.”

“And because I’m feeling charitable, I’m going to pretend that your sudden change of heart has nothing to do with meeting Gabriel’s sister,” Leliana added. Cullen glanced over at Cat, then back at his friends, his face warm. _Caught._ But she was only part of the decision.

“I know you said you were sick of cameras,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. “But we never did get that picture.”

Cassandra shook her head, grinning. “Oh, I didn’t mean you and you know it!” The four of them squeezed in so that Cullen could take a picture. He could barely get them all on the screen, and after four tries, Gabriel plucked the phone from his hands and took the picture for them. It would look nice framed on his desk, Cullen decided.

After another round of goodbyes, Gabriel and Cassandra made their getaway. Leliana and Josephine headed back to the ballroom to close out the party, leaving Cat and Cullen alone again.

“So, I suppose this is where we say goodnight,” he said, feeling more self-conscious than he had with everyone watching.

Cat flashed him a seductive smile. “Not until I get something from you.” She pointed at the center of his chest and wiggled her finger.

Alarms went off in Cullen’s head. Those were bedroom eyes. Did she want a kiss? Something _more_? “I, ah…”

“Your number.” Of course she was teasing him. “Honestly, Cullen.”

He sighed in relief. He was beginning to like her smirk almost as much as her smile. “I'm glad I amuse you,” he said as they exchanged numbers. He cleared his throat. “Can I amuse you again on Wednesday?”

“Coffee would be amusing. How’s 7:30?”

“It’s a date.”

And that date was just the first (or perhaps the second) of many. Cat was right, of course; he wasn’t ready for karaoke night, or bowling night, or dancing at the club. He probably never would be, but sometimes he went along anyway.

Leliana was right, too; he preferred quiet nights in with Cat. Still, his friends were unpredictable, and there was a certain charm in that—except when Varric was in town and the game was Wicked Grace.

At least no one called him a stick in the mud anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


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